“I do believe in simplicity. It is astonishing as well as sad, how many trivial affairs even the wisest thinks he must attend to in a day; how singular an affair he thinks he must omit. When the mathematician would solve a difficult problem, he first frees the equation of all incumbrances, and reduces it to its simplest terms. So simplify the problem of life, distinguish the necessary and the real. Probe the earth to see where your main roots run.” Henry David Thoreau, in a letter dated 27 March 1848
On July 4th, 1845 Henry David Thoreau moved into a one-room cabin he had built on the shores of Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, on land owned by his friend and fellow Transcendentalist, Ralph Waldo Emerson. He lived there for two years, two months, and two days, working and walking on the land, and writing in his journal. He wrote, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
Thoreau voluntarily embraced poverty and simplicity, but he was not a complete hermit during his time at Walden Pond, which was only a short walk from the town of Concord. He grew much of his food, but he dined with friends in town when they invited him. Although he wanted to get away from the busyness of town life for a while in order to immerse himself in nature, he valued community and maintained his friendships. He was, however, pushing against the materialism of the nineteenth century, in the wake of the industrial revolution.
Thoreau saw that most people were stuck in a cycle of endless work and accumulating more and more things, living lives of “quiet desperation” as he put it. “I make myself rich by making my wants few,” he wrote. During his two years at Walden Pond, Thoreau became more attuned to the rhythms of the natural world. In slowing down he was able to observe the smallest details and changes in nature and in himself. He saw that simple living in harmony with nature brought him freedom, clarity and peace. He exemplified the maxim that true happiness comes from within.
Thoreau was of course not the first person to seek a simple life. Lent commemorates the time that Jesus spent in the wilderness before beginning his ministry. “And he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels ministered to him.” Mark 1:13
In the fourth century Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire under Constantine. As their spiritual path became more and more enmeshed in worldly power-play, some devout people made the decision to retreat to the deserts of Egypt, Palestine, and Syria – the first monastics – known as the Desert Fathers and Mothers. They kept their possessions and food to a minimum in order to be free to devote themselves to their relationship with the divine.
The desert movement inspired Celtic Christians in Northern Europe, who developed their own monastic communities. Saint David founded around a dozen monasteries, in which the monks followed a simple Rule of Life, consisting of prayer, silence, studying scripture, farming the land by their own hands (not even using oxen to pull their ploughs), and eating a plain vegetarian diet of bread, leeks, and herbs. They were not permitted to own possessions, holding everything in common. David was known as Aquaticus, the water drinker, because he and his monks drank only water, and no ale.
Today, Lent is observed by some Christians as a time of fasting, prayer, and charitable giving – the idea being to exercise self-discipline by decreasing what we consume, deepen relationships with the divine by spending more time in spiritual reflection, and increase generosity by giving more to others.
Similarly, Ramadan is observed by most Muslims as a time of fasting, prayer, and charitable giving – a time to focus on the essentials, prioritising needs over wants, a time of spiritual cleansing and renewal, shedding negative habits and behaviours, a time of being mindful of resources and sharing them with others.
Muslim blogger Yasin Chopdat wrote, “Ramadan offers Muslims a powerful opportunity to rediscover the joy of simplicity and embrace a more minimalist way of life. By cultivating gratitude, practicing generosity, and prioritising spiritual pursuits over material possessions, believers can experience a deeper sense of fulfilment, contentment and purpose in their lives... Ramadan reminds Muslims that true wealth lies not in material possessions, but in the richness of the heart and the capacity to give and receive love and kindness.”
Now I'm not about to join Muslims in fasting from dawn to dusk, and I'm not going to adopt such a spartan lifestyle as Saint David and his monks. Retreating to a cabin in the woods like Thoreau is more attractive, but not really practical. But I do welcome the opportunity that Lent provides to undertake a radical simplification of my life – to engage in a spiritual and physical spring clean and declutter.
Doug Kraft, a retired UU minister, wrote of the pitfalls of having too much, “If we have too much stuff in our lives, our attention skips from one object to another without really enjoying anything. If we have too many activities, our attention jumps from past to future without settling into the present. If we have too many opinions, we end up thinking about how things should be without fully seeing how things are.”
The season of Lent and its invitation to simplicity is something I have come to appreciate only in later life. As a child I didn't understand the point of Lent. It seemed unfair to me – we had pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, and then weren't allowed to eat anything nice until Easter Sunday – when I gorged myself on Easter eggs until I was ill! Now, I love Lent as a time to deepen into my spiritual practice – to live deliberately, as Thoreau put it.
Here's what my Lenten practice looks like these days. Perhaps some of it may resonate with you. My first principle is to try to stop doing what clutters up my life: to consider carefully my purchases and consumption habits, and only buy and do what is necessary; to simplify my diet, cutting down on processed foods and eating more whole foods, focusing on sustenance rather than abstinence; to declutter my living spaces and give my excess possessions to charity, creating a more peaceful environment; to clear my mental clutter with a regular digital detox, spending less time on social media and online shopping sites; to declutter my mind with regular meditation and journaling; and to declutter my heart by trying to letting go of grudges and resentments.
All of this frees up space for more of the things that matter: friendship, generosity, gratitude, kindness, love. I can spend more quality time with friends and family, more time in nature. I am able to give more freely of my resources, my time and my money, to those in need. I feel grateful for and content with all I have. I am attentive to and appreciative of the small changes happening in nature all around me every day. I find myself returning often to Henry David Thoreau's advice, “Simplify the problem of life, distinguish the necessary and the real. Probe the earth to see where your main roots run.”
The world is complicated and scary. And getting scarier by the day. It is easy to feel overwhelmed by all the awful things that are happening and to feel hopeless to help. But like Saint David we can “do the little things” that are ours to do to make the world a better place. We can consider the impact of our actions, and make careful, considerate choices. We can cultivate caring, compassionate and kind ways of being in the world. We can embody peace and justice in our daily interactions, in our words and our deeds. So let us keep on doing the little things, for the little things really do matter. Amen.
